The Soundest Reasoning
by Route1984
Summary: A drabble after watching episode 6 wherein Nezumi ponders over telling Shion about the news from his mother.


Nezumi stares at the doorknob for the longest moment, his hand hovering above it as still as anything, and yet he doesn't even see it. He can't see it. What does run through his head is nothing but words, and everything that they entail. And somehow, through all that haze he sees nothing but those eyes.

Those eyes that stared back at him in fear and surprise the first time he saw them, that brightened in recognition when he reappeared after years, that looked to him pleadingly, asking for death when they were wracked with the insane agony that had killed others, that were all but crying in frustration when they discovered that they had turned into an unnatural red, that lit up in wonder as they scanned through his library and as they read those strange tomes to the girl with the familiar name.

Nezumi knew that those eyes were something special and perfect and different from anyone else's he's ever known, because he remembers so well the feeling that shot through his being when those eyes found his and pierced through to him from that audience, that den of wolves. He remembers how wild with worry they were, how they were pleading for him to wake up and open his own. He remembers how no one else has ever shown him that expression. He knows too well the way his gut clenches when those eyes stare back at him fearlessly every time he threatens them with death. He knows that they run over his face thoughtfully whenever he speaks and even when he doesn't. Every time he sees them, he knows that they're constantly asking. _What_ they are constantly asking.

Nezumi knows that they want him to understand what they understand, to see the grey inside the black and white world he created around himself.

Something in his being tells him that being able to look at those eyes is everything that he will ever need, while his one hand holds everything that will take them away from him and the other one hovers at the doorknob waiting for his decision.

Nezumi knows it, accepts it, begrudgingly so, that there is no doubt that Shion would return to the city in a heartbeat if he knew what the scrap of paper said. He would run as swift as the wind to save the girl he grew up with, run through whatever the city could throw at him to reach her, run through the walls if it needed, without even looking back at him. Nezumi remembers everything that they have been through together, and he knows that it is far too little, that it will never be enough for Shion to choose him over the city, over his family, over her.

Nezumi is certain, that is what his mind, and perhaps what his heart, is telling him. Even as he turns around to look at the room that has become their home, the insane pounding in his chest doesn't go away.

Because all he can think about is what if Shion goes away.

Then there won't be anyone in the worn out couch when he wakes up in the morning, no more stupid jacket that isn't Nezumi's lounging on top of it. There will be no need for the second set of plates and chopsticks in the makeshift kitchen. Books will be where he leaves them on the shelves and not sitting on top of the ones he's reading. His mice will go back to being nothing more but little robots, and no one will talk to them as if they were pets, as if they were more than machines, as if they were alive. Because there won't be any more questions or hesitations or holding back, Nezumi can watch the city burn in peace. Even if he knows that Shion being in there would stop him from wanting it as much.

He has told Shion countless times that they will eventually have to become enemies, so he has to believe it himself, right? Because Nezumi knows, somewhere deep in himself, that _maybe_ there was never any grey. Perhaps it really is plain black and white, and perhaps it will always be, the way he feels about No. 6 and everyone inside it. Maybe all he can feel is pure hatred and nothing else and that's just how the world is.

Nezumi knows that he'll never understand what Shion understands because he never grew up looking out at that city inside those walls, because he's always been the one that's been looking in, chased out, locked out. He has never been friends with the people who live in the make-believe paradise. His existence was never maintained by electronic bracelets. He has never been controlled by a government that strips its people of the need for secrets. He has never lived in ignorant luxury, doesn't live to suck the life out of the world around and beyond those high walls. He is certain that he can never love a life of that, nor can he tolerate the people who chose it.

This is why he believes that he can never grow so attached to Shion as much as to call it love of any form. He's just repaying a debt, and no matter what anyone says that's all that it is.

Shion can just throw away his life again for all he cares. Because Nezumi honestly doesn't. Because Nezumi is his friend and Nezumi will also become his foe. Of that much he is sure. Which is why he knows that if Shion ever finds out, he's still going to let him run back to the city, he's still going to let him risk his life for that girl and he's still going to chase after him.

He knows that this logic is beyond sanity, but it's the only line of reasoning that makes sense. And that is why he still crushes that piece of paper in his fist.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: This was written after watching episode 6. It could also be called over-analyzing 20 seconds of animation. So for the usual disclaimer, I don't own the series, and please forgive my grammar and confusing sentence construction. Thank you for your time!<strong>


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